


Ship of a thousand sails

by Nival_Vixen



Series: Short & sweet tumblr-weed [18]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Vernon Boyd & Erica Reyes, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire, Apartments, Arcades, Bad Pick-Up Lines, Building evacuation, Clubbing, Coffee Shops, Complete, Dance Dance Revolution - Freeform, Delivery Person Stiles, Derek Has a Crush on Stiles, Derek Likes Stiles, Derek meets Stiles, Diners, F/M, Fanboys - Freeform, Ficlet Collection, Fire Alarms, Flirting, Florist Derek, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Headaches & Migraines, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Immature Stiles, Inspired By Tumblr, M/M, Movie Night, Multi, Musician Stiles, Paranormal, Park Ranger Derek, Scott is a Good Friend, Snarky Stiles, Stiles Has a Crush on Derek, Stiles Likes Derek, Stiles Takes Care Of Derek, Stiles meets Derek, Waitresses know all, Werewolf Derek, Wolf Derek, park
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-24
Updated: 2014-08-24
Packaged: 2018-02-14 12:38:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2192139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nival_Vixen/pseuds/Nival_Vixen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written from <a href="http://nivalvixen.tumblr.com/post/95639974432/puppetamateur-okay-but-consider-these-oh-my#_=_">this list</a> on Tumblr.</p><p>An AU collection of Stiles/Derek ficlets, involving the various ways they meet/fall in love.</p><p>(At a dog park, in a preservation's park, in line at a coffee shop, during a building evacuation, at the arcade on DDR, in the rain, in a diner, through a mutual friend, on a train, at a nightclub, at a haunted house, and during a floristry delivery)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ship of a thousand sails

**Author's Note:**

> Written from the following list on Tumblr:
> 
> \- 'oh my god im so sorry my dog usually doesnt jump up on people like this i have no idea what their deal is but also hey there'  
> \- met while jumping into the same pile of freshly raked leaves in a park (alternatively, one jumps in and they met when no 2 kicks said pile of leaves)  
> \- waiting behind you in line but ‘excuse you me did i just hear you talking shit about my favourite superhero there SON’  
> \- 3am and the fire alarm in our apartment complex just went off let me lend you my jacket while we wait on the sidewalk  
> \- it started as one game of ddr in a games acarde/convention and turned into a two hour long battle and i wont let you wiN  
> \- 'it was raining so hard i wasnt paying attention as i ran into the side of your car/you/your umbrella but were both drenched now and also hey there'  
> \- eating in the same diner every morning and the waitress ALWAYS mixes up our orders so why dont we just sit at the same table to save her the trouble  
> \- well were both here to meet a mutual friend to hang out but they dropped out last second and this is awkward as shit huh  
> \- 'im sorry but your headphones are so loud i can hear them from here and just what the crap do you think youre listening to thats so two thousand and late'  
> \- 'wait, have we met before?' 'no, i think i wouldve remembered' just in any context just do it okay  
> \- ghost hunters/haunted house/paranormal investigators au  
> \- fLORIST AU

Stiles' dog is an English pitbull, slobbers on people if she can even be bothered moving in the first place, and is definitely not the kind of dog to actually jump on people. Mostly because his dog's too lazy to jump. Hell, Trixie doesn't even try to jump on her dog bed; she just sits in front of it and whines until Stiles lifts her into it. (Yeah, okay, he's spoilt her by actually doing that, but she was a pound puppy and has a stumpy leg, so it's totally to save on vet bills. Even though he has to spend more money on a chiropractor every other week.) She's the perfect dog for Stiles because he enjoys sitting on the couch more than running in the park, and she doesn't reprimand him when he plays too much X-Box or swears at the TV.

However, some days are just too perfect to stay inside, and even Trixie can get excited about going to the park. So, Stiles hooks her leash on, takes her out to the Jeep and grins when Trixie manages to stick her head out of the window, a trail of saliva flying out behind her. They arrive to the park and he's glad to see that it's not very busy, a few joggers, a family or two in the children's playground, that sort of thing. Trixie seems content to roll around on the grass, folds of skin flopping around after her, and Stiles chuckles as he rubs her stomach with his bare foot, lying back on the grass. Then, without any warning, Trixie not only jumps up in excitement, but runs down the grassy hill at a ridiculously fast speed considering her one short leg, and then actually starts jumping on a poor jogger. Stiles runs after her quickly, shoes in hand and the lead pulled out of his hand in pure surprise, and he has to bend over and just  _breathe_  when he stops because  _holy hell_  that was fast.

"This your dog?" the jogger asks.

"Uh... Yeah... Sorry, she... doesn't..." Stiles wheezes, and has to stop again.

He finally catches his breath and straightens up, only to feel like he's had the wind knocked out of him all over again. Trixie has  _seriously_  good taste in guys. This guy is the literal definition of Tall, Dark and Handsome, and Stiles wants to jump on his leg just like Trixie's doing.  _Except maybe a little further north_.

"You okay?" the guy asks, looking somewhere between amused and concerned when Stiles finally looks at his face again, and  _oh holy fuck,_  he was just actively staring at this poor guy's crotch.

"I'm really sorry, but my dog doesn't usually jump up on people. In fact, Trixie doesn't jump on  _anything_ , at all,  _ever_. I have no idea what's going on with her. Trix, come on, girl," Stiles calls, trying to play off the fact that his face is probably beet red and tells himself it's because of the sudden burst of exercise.

Trixie turns to look at Stiles, drooling happily before pushing off the guy's leg and waddling back over to him slowly like she  _hadn't_  just run a twenty metre race at full speed.

"Sorry again, about Trixie doing that," Stiles says, taking up Trixie's leash and holding it firmly. "Can I take you out for a coffee to apologise?" he adds hopefully, and his hands are not sweating with nerves, he's just gripping the leash too tightly, okay?

"Yeah, okay," the guy says.

Then he smiles in a way that makes Stiles actually have to suck in a deep gulp of oxygen because he's forgotten how to breathe, and how the fuck is it possible to actually get winded by someone's smile anyway?!

"Awesome. I'm Stiles, by the way."

"Derek. Nice to meet you. And Trixie too," he adds, grinning down at Trixie, who's looking so damn pleased with herself.

Stiles can't blame her at all.

...

Stiles is an adult. He has a job, a mortgage on a decent-sized house, owns his Jeep (even though it has a habit of breaking down at the worst time possible), and does taxes every year. While he has all of these very adult things and life, Stiles freely admits that he has a tendency to be ... well, somewhat childish. It's not immaturity, it's simply that he likes to make the most out of life, to appreciate the little things in his day, like building snowmen, jumping in puddles, clanging sticks on metal fences, that sort of thing. And since Fall's finally arrived, Stiles is fully prepared to jump in as many piles of freshly raked leaves as he can see. He drives out to the park to do exactly this, because he knows how prompt the rangers are with cleaning up any fire hazards, and zips up his hoodie as he clambers out of his Jeep.

Derek's just finished raking up his final pile of leaves when he hears something akin to a battle-cry behind him and turns just in time to see one of the larger piles flurry up into the air. He frowns - he's heard about the notorious Leaf Pile Jumper from the other rangers - and heads straight over there to tell the kid off and make him rake up the leaves as punishment. He kicks the pile of leaves, his lips quirking into a grin when he hears a chuckle of laughter - a bit deep for a kid, maybe they've got a cold? And where are this kid's parents anyway? - and Derek makes himself frown sternly as he reaches down to pull the kid out of the leaves. The person he pulls out is definitely not a kid.

"Hey. Uh, can you let go of me?"

"You're the leaf jumper?" Derek asks, letting go of the young man - at least mid-twenties, his brain supplies helpfully - and staring at him.

"The leaf jumper? Is that what they're calling me? I thought it was still annoying little shit," Stiles admits, laughing.

"I think there was a vote," Derek murmurs, eyes fixed on a leaf caught in the young man's hoodie.

"Okay, nice to know I'm not going to be called out across the park by Ranger Thomas again."

"Oh, he might anyway; he doesn't like you very much," Derek admits, then blushes fiercely because this is his first month on the job and he doesn't want to get fired for bad-mouthing a colleague.

"Yeah, I know. I kicked his kid's ass in a lacrosse game in high school; he's never forgiven me for it," Stiles says, grinning. "I'm Stiles, by the way. You're obviously new, uh, Derek," he adds, squinting a bit to read Derek's name tag.

"It's my first month working at the park."

"Must be an interesting job."

"It got a bit more interesting when someone started jumping in piles of leaves," Derek replies, grinning broadly now.

Stiles laughs again, and Derek feels ridiculously pleased about that.

"So, what were you planning on doing after you pulled me out of the pile of leaves anyway?" Stiles queries, brushing a few stray leaves off his hoodie.

"Going to make you clean them up."

"Hmm, s'pose I'd better since I ruined it in the first place. I just couldn't help myself, y'know? It was a  _huge_  pile of leaves," Stiles says, grinning again.

"I know, I raked it."

Stiles snorts a bit at that, then tugs on the rake in Derek's hands. "Well, I guess I'd better get on with my punishment, right?"

"Uh, right... Look, you really don't have to, Stiles; I thought you were a kid, honestly, and..."

"It's okay, I did the crime, I'll do the time." he quips, and somehow, it doesn't even sound corny when he says it.

"All right then. Let me know when you're done."

"Hey, Derek? How do you feel about hot chocolate?" Stiles asks before he can walk away.

"What do you mean?" Derek asks warily; he doesn't know if this is Stiles flirting or just asking him a random question about a drink.

"D'you want to have a hot chocolate with me? After this, I mean?" Stiles adds, and he blushes a pretty pink colour that makes Derek grin.

"Yeah, that'll be nice, Stiles."

Stiles smiles so broadly that Derek gives in to his sudden desire to kiss him (he doesn't do things like this; he only just met Stiles fifteen minutes ago!), and Stiles tugs Derek back so they both fall onto the pile of leaves behind them. Ranger Thomas discovers them making out almost twenty minutes later, and even though Thomas is kind of a bastard about it later, Derek can't bring himself to care.

...

Derek's been waiting in this line for what feels like forever (it's been ten minutes), and while he hates lines and hates waiting even more, the guy in front of him is having a conversation that's actually making it bearable. He's not even trying to hide his amusement anymore, actually snickering at some of the things the guy's saying, and the guy just grins back at him every now and then like he appreciate's his audience.

"No, that's where you're wrong, McCall! Iron Man is the suit itself; Tony Stark is the man. They're not interchangeable, and if you say otherwise, I'm going to hunt you down."

There's a pause, and Derek kind of leans forward to try to listen to the response properly (something about Stark saying  _I am Iron Man_?), going still when the guy turns again and is a hell of a lot closer than Derek anticipated. They're close enough to kiss, and great, now he's staring at this guy's lips, and... actually, they're fucking fantastic lips. Derek entertains a brief thought about those lips wrapped around a certain part of his anatomy, and fights hard not to blush or get hard.

"Next!"

It takes them both a second to realise that the guy's being called, and Derek kind of hopes that by the blush on his mole-dotted face, he was thinking something similar. He waits patiently for his own turn, and when he hears the guy's name called out - Stiles? Maybe the barista wrote it wrong? - Derek gathers up his courage and approaches him.

"Hi, uh, I heard you talking about Iron Man earlier, and I really hope you convinced your friend that Iron Man and Tony Stark aren't the same thing?" he says, hoping he doesn't sound like an absolute tool.

"Oh, it'll take a bit more convincing than that, I'm afraid. Scott's like a dog with some things, refuses to let go once he's got his overbite stuck in them," Stiles replies, grinning broadly. "Please don't tell me that's all you've got to say?" he adds with a wince.

"About Iron Man or MCU in general? Actually, either way, the answer's a hell no, that's not all I've got to say. And, I was also thinking we could discuss it over coffee sometime," Derek adds quickly; he hates how awkward he is with the whole flirting thing.

"Derek?" His order's called out, and Derek curses his luck, feeling and probably looking downcast as he heads over to get his takeaway cup.

He turns around to find Stiles still waiting there, looking a little nervous and hopeful, and Derek grins at him.

"Is now a good time?" Stiles asks shyly, looking up at him through thick lashes.

"Yeah, actually, it is," Derek replies, heart pounding wildly, happily as he follows Stiles outside to a small table.

"So, favourite MCU character?" Stiles asks seriously, eyes bright as he grins at Derek.

(Ten minutes later, they're arguing over the best character - Natasha Romanoff or Kate Bishop - and they're both pretty sure it's love.)

...

The blaring noise starts off slow, gains momentum, and Stiles barely has time to blink his way awake before he realises it's the building's fire alarm. He swears profusely, actually falls out of his bed, and then spends a good minute trying to find his phone, keys, jacket, shoes. He's pretty sure that if the building was actually on fire, he'd already be dead or toasty warm at least, but he's not going to risk that it's a false alarm. So, he promises himself to actively work on getting out of the building at a faster pace in case of an actual emergency (there's people behind him in the stairwell, yawning widely and swearing at the noise of the alarm, and Stiles is pretty sure 3B is actually refusing to leave the building at all), and leaves the lobby to wait in the street for the fire department.

A small crowd of them have gathered, some women loudly complaining about work, children, a man muttering about the cold night, and Stiles tries to avoid the unhappy mass, heading further down the sidewalk. He doesn't actually see the guy until he almost trips over him, and at first, Stiles thinks he's a homeless man, but then he sees the expensive Italian shoes and figures he's a resident as well. The poor guy must've bolted out of the building - he's wearing nothing more than a thin t-shirt and a pair of light sweatpants - and Stiles figures he's probably freezing his ass off, sitting on the sidewalk like that.

"Hey; fire alarm woke you up too?" Stiles asked, dropping beside him.

"Yeah. Pretty sure it woke half the street."

"Hmm, probably," Stiles agreed, seeing the various apartments with lights further along the street. "Are you okay? You're looking a little pale," he added, frowning and hoping he sounded more like a Good Samaritan rather than 'a creepy guy who just sat next to you'.

(Stiles realises that this is the guy on the 5th floor that uses the building's communal gym every weekend; he's actually started going to the  _gym_  because of this guy. Not that he's going to admit that.  ** _Ever._** )

"I don't like fire, and I'm cold," the guy admitted.

It was probably too goddamn early in the morning, 'cause Stiles is 85% that guy would never have admitted something like that in his normal waking hours. (He surreptitiously checks his phone; it's three fucking o'clock in the goddamn morning. If he finds out who set off the fire alarm, he's going to throw a bucket of ice cold water on them for this. He has to be up in four hours. Ugh.)

"Here, take this," Stiles offers, shrugging off his jacket and putting it on the guy's knees.

"You sure? I don't mind waiting."

"Dude, your teeth are chattering. Just take the damn jacket, it's too early to argue," Stiles muttered, resting his head on his knees and closing his eyes, argument avoided.

There's no response, but a ruffle of material indicates that he's taken the offer.

"Derek."

"Huh?"

"My name. It's Derek, not dude."

"Right. Hi, Derek. I'm Stiles."

"I know."

"Really?" Stiles asked curiously, looking over in time to see a mix of 'oh fuck, I fucked up big fucking time' emotions flash across Derek's still-pale face.

"Yeah, you... You were on your phone one time at the gym. I overheard," Derek admitted, and there's a whole lot of colour in his face now, mainly on the red side.

"Hmm," Stiles murmured, trying to hide his grin as he turned back to look at the approaching fire engine.

They're both quiet as the fire fighters do what they need to do, turn off the still-ringing alarm, and discover that it was someone attempting to make popcorn in the middle of the night.

"If you find out who was making the popcorn, let me know, okay? I'm going to throw a bucket of water on them for being a douche," Stiles muttered, standing up and brushing the seat of his pants off.

Derek did the same, chuckling a bit as he took Stiles' jacket off and handed it back to him. Stiles told himself that he wasn't going to be a creeper and breathe in Derek's scent. Not in front of him, at least. He jangled his pocket, checking his keys were still there, and Derek paled suddenly, mouth dropping open.

"I left my keys in my apartment."

It took Stiles a second to realise that Derek had locked himself out, and he didn't even have to think about his next words.

"Stay with me. For the night, I mean. I've got a couch, or you can take the bed, I don't mind. I'm sure a locksmith would charge a billion dollars to come out right now, anyway."

Derek seemed surprised at his offer, but then nodded gratefully. "Thanks, Stiles. I'd appreciate it. My sister has a spare key that she'd be able to drop off in the morning; I'd rather not risk waking her now if I can help it."

"Not a morning person?"

"To her, there is no such thing as a morning. Just a coffee haze until lunch time," Derek replied, grinning.

"Sounds like a smart woman," Stiles snickered. "Oh, they're letting us back in. C'mon, before the horde catches on," he muttered, grabbing Derek's hand and pulling him towards the building.

Derek let himself be pulled along, and didn't bother to let go of Stiles' hand until they reached his apartment. Stiles let Derek sleep on his bed, saying he had to be up in a few hours and didn't mind the couch anyway. As Derek didn't have to work on Mondays, he thought it only decent to get up early and make Stiles breakfast and coffee in thanks.

On discovering that Derek had spent the night at Stiles' ( _yes, the guy with the moles from the gym; shut up, Laura_ ) apartment, Laura told Derek that she would be keeping his keys for another two days as she was suddenly feeling sick and was  _definitely_  contagious.

Stiles obviously didn't believe Laura's excuse any more than Derek did, but he was kind enough to let Derek stay over until Laura felt well enough to drop his keys off. As Stiles headed off to work with a second coffee in hand, he looked at Derek over his shoulder and suggested that they share the bed this time. Derek almost dropped a coffee cup.

...

When Stiles got to the arcade, he waved Scott and Allison off as they went to play some horror game behind the curtains (and probably make out more than play the game, if Scott's sappy look had any say in things), and headed straight for his favourite game: Dance Dance Revolution. He had the second-highest score on the game, and was determined to beat it today. He was feeling lucky.

Okay, not so lucky then. Someone was already using the game, and Stiles hung back, hoping the guy would get off soon. (Okay, he had a great view of the guy's ass from back here, and he's pretty sure that's the same reason a crowd had gathered. Not just because his score was ...  _holy fuck, he was about to beat Stiles' own record!_ ) Oh, this shit just was  **not**  on. He held his breath, watching the characters on the screen and the score as it crept higher and higher, and Stiles was not going to be outranked by some amateur, no matter how nice his ass looked! He almost let out a crow of triumph when the guy faltered on a two-two step that most beginners could do without trouble, and a second stumble had him coming in third place.

"Hey, how about going two player and let someone else have a go, yeah?" Stiles said from the side.

"We're just watching, it's okay," one girl said quickly, eyes wide when Stiles looked over at them.

"Looks like you're it then; you up for it?" the guy asked, looking smug with his shirt and his stubble and his ass-hugging trousers.

"Yeah, all right," Stiles muttered, standing up on the platform and putting his tokens in the machine.

"Whoever loses gets off."

Stiles double-taked at that, then realised what the guy actually meant, and gave a slight cough and nodded. "Right."

The game started -  _3, 2, 1, GO!_  - and after fumbling once on a simple foot switch because he was distracted by Mr. Stubble's stubble, Stiles clenched his jaw in determination and  _focused_. The guy laughed, as if pleased that he'd finally stepped up to the plate, and then it was  _so totally on_.

Scott frowned when he saw the crowd that had gathered around DDR, guiding Allison over to the machine. He tapped a curly-haired guy on the shoulder.

"Hey, how long have they been up there?" Scott asked, nodding to Stiles and the dark-haired guy who were actually covered in sweat.

"I only got here an hour ago, they were already going by then," the guy replied, giving Scott a quick once over and licking his lips briefly.

"They've been up there for almost two hours," a young blonde woman said, grinning as she leaned back against her boyfriend.

"Derek's not going to stop until he's won or has that kid's phone number," her boyfriend muttered, chuckling.

"Well, I'm that kid's best friend. If I give you his number, can we get them down from there? The arcade's closing in ten minutes," Scott pointed out.

"Sure, but we'll need your phone number too," the curly-haired guy said, grinning broadly as he looked between Scott and Allison.

Beside him, Allison took a small breath, biting her lip. "You might need mine, too," she said quickly, blushing lightly as she pulled out her phone.

"Hey, Derek! Get your butt down here; arcade's closing!" Erica called out.

"Stiles, c'mon, we're hungry and you promised us curly fries," Scott called, knowing exactly how to entice his friend.

Derek and Stiles both faltered long enough for the game to be over. Stiles and Derek both seemed surprised at how much time had passed, and Scott just stared when he realised that  _every single_  top score had been defeated by them.

"Told you, I was feeling lucky!" Stiles called out, grinning.

"Same time next week?" Derek offered, grinning broadly himself.

"Screw that, Derek; we're going out for burgers and fries together now. Isaac's in love," Erica teased, the curly-haired boy blushing wildly.

"Hey. Nice moves out there," Stiles said quietly as he stepped off the platform, legs suddenly weak without the rush of adrenaline.

"You too. Maybe you can teach some of them to me later? In private?" Derek added, glancing over to their group of friends.

"I'd love to," Stiles replied, winking.

 _Definitely feeling lucky_.

...

Stiles is already having a bad day when he almost gets his eye poked out by someone's umbrella. The forecast for today had been mild with a very low chance of showers. Which, of course, obviously meant the biggest damn downpour Beacon Hills had seen in almost ten years, and the one day when Stiles had left his damn umbrella at home.

"Oh my god, are you okay? I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention. I didn't hurt you, did I?" the guy asked, sounding appropriately chastised and apologetic (and probably a little frightened by the amount of swearing Stiles was doing).

" _Fucking peachy_. It's not like this day could get any fucking worse!" Stiles muttered, loudly and annoyed enough that the guy flinched back, and yeah, okay, Stiles felt bad for that. He sighed, swiping his hair back out of his face. "I'm sorry; I'm having a really shitty day, and I'm taking it out on you. I'm fine, please, go on about your day," he said, stepping aside.

Just in time for a car to speed past, right through a puddle on the road, and splash muddy water all over his brand new suit pants.

"Spoke too soon. In fact, why not just hit me with a lightning bolt, you sadistic bastard? That'd be quicker than putting me through this misery, you omnipotent fucker!" Stiles yelled up at the sky.

"Um. Okay. I'll just let you go now, Stiles. Sorry again about the umbrella almost poking you in the eye."

"Wait, how do you know my name?" Stiles asked, stepping back on the footpath in case more cars decided to ruin his new fucking outfit.

"Uh, we went to school together. Sort of. My sister, Cora, was in your year. I'm Derek. Derek Hale," he replied quickly, face flushed red.

"Holy fuck, you are too. Well, this is just great, isn't it? I mean, I'm on my way to a job interview, got drenched from head to toe, and now the guy I crushed on for at least three straight years is standing right in front of me, and why the fuck am I saying this out loud? Oh, god, seriously, I should have just stayed in bed this morning where it was nice and warm," Stiles groaned, burying his head in his hands.

"It's okay, I had a crush on you for four years," Derek said.

"Wait. What? Seriously? This isn't some sort of cruel joke?"

"No, why would I joke about something like that?"

"I... I don't know. I'm not ... entirely sure how to process this."

"You could agree to dinner when I ask you out?" Derek suggested, grinning at him broadly.

"Okay. Yes, that sounds good."

"Or how about lunch at my place? You look like you need to be somewhere warm right about now."

"Better idea.  _Much_  better," Stiles mumbled, still looking a little dazed and in disbelief.

"And, just so you know, my bed's also nice and warm in the morning," Derek added, a chuckle escaping when Stiles' jaw actually dropped open.

"I think I'd like to test that out for myself," he replied, grinning broadly.

Derek nodded with a grin of his own, and guided Stiles back to his apartment, his umbrella held above them despite the fact they were both drenched.

...

"Seriously, Patrice? I've been dining here every day for five months, and every single day, you get my order mixed up with table 42."

"I know, I'm sorry, Stiles. I can't help it; they're just such similar orders!"

"Egg whites on wholemeal is similar to fried eggs on white bread with a side of bacon? How?  _In what world?!_ " Stiles asked incredulously.

"Hey, calm down; it's an honest mistake."

"Oh, go back to your drink, Mr. black coffee, one sugar," Stiles muttered.

Over at his table - 42, Derek just couldn't resist the temptation - Derek sighed and headed over to the counter.

"Look, would it just be easier if we had breakfast at the same table? It would save you the trouble, Patrice," Derek offered.

Stiles regarded him for a moment, then gave a brief nod. "We're sitting at my table, it has the better view."

"My table's number 42, and the view's decent enough. Yours is by the door and gets the cold breeze."

Stiles muttered something low under his breath, but finally conceded with a nod, adjusting his backpack on his shoulder. "Fine. Only 'cause of Douglas Adams."

"Who?" Black coffee, one sugar, asked with a frown.

"I'm not going to even answer that," Stiles muttered, shaking his head and going over to Derek's - their - table.

Derek followed after him, sliding into his side of the booth, and was glad that Stiles hadn't attempted to take it for himself. They soon started talking about Douglas Adams, and it wasn't until Patrice appeared with their orders fifteen minutes later that they realised just how close they'd gotten over the table. Patrice smirked at them broadly and without a single utterance, placed the correct plates in front of Stiles and Derek.

...

"Scott, I can't believe you just ditched me like this. You're an awful friend and I'm going to kick you in the shin next time I see you," Stiles hissed into his phone, hanging up.

"Uh, so I guess Scott's not coming?" Derek asked.

"Seems that way," Stiles muttered, wincing slightly because  _oops_ , Derek was a werewolf and had probably heard all of that.

"Okay. I, uh, guess I'll see you around some other time, then," Derek said with a slightly awkward wave.

"Oh, fuck it. I really want to see this movie, okay? And I'm pretty sure you want to too, so how about we just watch the damn thing together?" Stiles asked, deciding not to mention how Scott had said how Derek had practically begged him to see the new Marvel movie soon after Stiles had done the same thing.

Derek seemed to light up, smiling broadly, and nodded firmly.

"Great; I'll pay for the tickets if you pay for the snacks?" Stiles offered, unable to stop from smiling at least a little in response to Sunshine Smile Derek.

The way he nodded again,  _so eagerly_ , had Stiles wondering if he had any friends other than Scott.

It was a bit awkward at the start of the movie, both of them going to grab the popcorn at the same time, shuffling on the seat when their knees touched, that sort of thing, but then Stiles decided  _fuck that shit_ , and made himself relax. He didn't flinch back when Derek's hand brushed his, or their knees knocked together, or even when he realised halfway through the movie that he'd accidentally been drinking from Derek's cup instead of his own. (He switched them when Derek went for a bathroom break, even though Derek was seriously fast. Werewolf speed was a definite plus in that regard.)

By the end of the movie, after laughing at each other's quiet snarking commentary and just the movie itself, Stiles didn't even care that Scott had bailed on them. And later, when he found himself pressed up against Derek and kissing him so hard his lips would be swollen, Stiles didn't even think about Scott at all.

...

Derek had the mother of all migraines. It felt like his brain had swelled up inside of his skull, pressed up against his eyeballs until he could feel each nerve ending individually aching, and now his brain was attempting to escape the confines of his head with a million tiny sledgehammers. He became light sensitive all too quickly, and noise sensitivity would follow fast on the heels of that. Being stuck in a train carriage with flickering fluorescent lights didn't help, and neither did the fact that a passenger was playing excessively loud music, the sound distorted through their cheap headphones. Still, it was recognisable music, and it seemed to be stuck on repeat.

With the carriage swaying the way it was, Derek didn't like his chances of getting out of the train without stumbling and falling out of it completely. Two stops later, it became obvious that the other passenger just wasn't going to move, or get off the train, and now, it was express for another twenty minutes. Derek wouldn't survive it. Stumbling his way over, Derek tapped the guy on the shoulder, who blinked and jerked his way awake, staring up at him in surprise.

"I'm sorry, but your headphones are so loud I can here them from here, and just what the crap do you think you're listening to? That's so two-thousand and late," Derek grumbled, annoying and feeling sick enough that he'd criticise a stranger's taste in music.

The guy turned his music down, thankfully, and gave a small snort of amusement. "Yeah, it's what happens when my crappy MP3 player falls in a puddle of water and refuses to play anything else. Still, it's better than nothing," he added, wincing when a guy snored loudly next to him. "Hey, are you all right, dude? You look like you're going to throw up or something."

"Migraine," Derek admitted, squeezing his eyes shut tight when the light overhead flickered violently.

"Fuck, I know what they're like. Here, sit down and put these on," the guy said, standing and offering his seat. He dug around in his bag and pulled out a pair of thick headphones, handing them to Derek.

"What?" he asked, blinking at the headphones.

"Music student. The jack on those headphones don't fit my MP3 player, and I'm too cheap to buy a new one that will fit," he admitted, grinning. "But, these are noise cancelling, which should help until your stop. Hey, where are you getting off?"

"End of the line," Derek murmured, trying to bat off nausea as the noise sensitivity really started to kick in.

"No problem, I can catch a cab back. You just shut your eyes, okay? I'll make sure no one bothers you. Oh, and by the way, I'm Stiles," he added, turning on the noise cancelling switch.

Derek thought he replied with his name, but he wasn't entirely sure. Stiles slipped his hat over Derek's eyes to block out the light, and despite the fact that Stiles was a complete stranger, Derek actually fell asleep.

Half an hour later, Derek was shaken awake gently, and he followed Stiles off the train. He managed to get his keys out, fingers trembling, and Stiles shook his head firmly, taking the keys with hardly any resistance.

"You live nearby? I'm not sure you should be driving anywhere," Stiles muttered, seeing the pale pallor of his skin. "I'll walk you home if you don't want me driving your car."

Derek would usually call Laura for a lift, but remembered that she had a late night exhibition at the gallery, so he nodded briefly. If Stiles wasn't a murderer and Derek lived through this, he'd seriously have to stop being so trusting of strangers.

Fifteen minutes later, Derek was at his apartment block, and his doorman helped him inside after giving a brief thanks to Stiles. Once Derek was in his apartment, lying down in darkness and trying to fight back another bout of nausea, he belatedly realised he still had Stiles' headphones wrapped around his neck.

The next day, Derek didn't actually have to go to work, but he had to return the headphones and thank Stiles for his help. He was lucky that he found Stiles on the first carriage, beanie pulled low and his cheap headphones blaring  _Black Eyed Peas_  on repeat. Derek grinned and tapped Stiles' shoulder.

"A bit two-thousand and late, don't you think?" he asked when Stiles pulled the earphones out.

"It's better than nothing," Stiles replied with a grin.

...

"Hey, wait, have we met before?" the man slurred, a leering grin on his face.

"No, I think I would've remembered. You're a very... unique individual," Stiles replied, trying to move away from the creepy far too hands-on man that was hitting on him.

"There you are, babe. Sorry to keep you waiting."

Okay, Stiles must have slipped and hit his head because there was no way this amazingly gorgeous guy was actually willingly talking to him and putting his arm around his waist and pressing a kiss to his temple.

"Uh, no problem. Babe."

The drunk guy looked between them with a frown, then turned back to his drink with a low mutter.

Mr. Gorgeous led Stiles away from the bar quickly, and soon let go of him. "I'm sorry, I hate it when guys think it's okay to grope someone just because they're drunk. I hope I didn't do the wrong thing, getting you out of there?"

"No, not at all. I was a second away from tasering his ass, actually," Stiles admitted, bringing his taser out of his pocket. "So, uh, thanks for the rescue."

"No problem."

"Wait, have we met before?" Stiles asked, grinning.

Sure, it was probably a billion times creepy that he was using a pick up line - and a bad one at that - that Mr. Hands-on had tried on him, but he couldn't think of anything else off the top of his head.

"No, I think I would've remembered someone like you," he replied, looking over Stiles unabashedly.

"I'm Stiles, it's nice to meet you."

"Derek. Nice to meet you too. To be honest, I'm looking forward to seeing more of you," Derek added, grinning.

"Pinch me so I know I didn't hit my head back there and this is all some fantastic dream?" Stiles asked, offering his arm.

Derek slid his fingernails down Stiles' offered arm carefully, smirking when Stiles licked his lips on realising that it was actually real.

"Well, I should've known it was real anyway; we're both still wearing clothes," Stiles muttered.

"Let's change that, shall we?" Derek suggested in his ear, voice low and rough, his stubble brushing against Stiles' cheek.

Stiles nodded adamantly and pulled Derek out of the club immediately.

...

"Dude, I've told you there's no ghosts around here. We have to go up to Old Man Finstock's if we want to see a ghost."

"I'm not looking for a ghost, Scott. Didn't you listen earlier?"

"When you gave the powerpoint presentation? Then, no, I didn't listen."

"Knew I should've added more dinosaurs to keep you interested. We're staying in the Hale house 'cause it's meant to be haunted, like properly, not just that stupid sheet-covered skeleton that Finstock has."

"Wait. Is it a real skeleton? I heard it was some kid named Greenberg; he annoyed Finstock so bad he  _killed_  him."

"Dude, where are you getting your information?! It's like you're not even taking this seriously."

"Of course I'm not. Ghosts aren't real, Stiles."

"You don't know that, shut up."

A door slammed behind them, the floorboards creaked, and outside, branches scratched against the windowpane.

"Have you told anyone we're staying at the Hale house?"

"Jackson knows, and so does Lydia. Admittedly, probably not my best idea."

"What about our parents, Stiles?"

"Uh. No, not them. Why don't you go call them, and I'll set the sleeping bags up over there, by the hole in the wall?"

"Fine. You just want me to call so they'll come pick us up, right?"

"Right."

Scott let out a relieved sigh and hurried outside to call the Sheriff and his mum. Stiles immediately wished he hadn't stayed inside on his own, the creaking floorboards sounded really freaky now that he was alone. And closer too, was that sound getting closer? Holy hell, it totally was. Shit, what should he do?! Stiles let out a small strangled scream as he was literally pounced on, and the thing above him, with fangs and red glowing eyes, growled menacingly.

"Uh, Stiles? What was that noise?" Scott asked uncertainly from the door. "Your dad said he'd be here in ten minutes. And we're in a lot of trouble. Stiles? Dude, what's wrong?"

Stiles looked over at Scott, eyes wide. He'd just seen a werewolf, an honest to god werewolf. It had to be real - Jackson and his friends would have stayed to laugh, Lydia didn't care about him to attempt something like this, and there was no way it was anything but a real werewolf.

"Nothing, dude. All good here," Stiles said quickly, pulling his bag on and tugging Scott back outside. "Let's wait out here. Let sleeping dogs lie and all that," he added quickly.

Later that week, Sheriff Stilinski would come home to find that his son had picked up a stray dog at the pound. Well, it was bigger than a damn dog, that's for sure, but Stiles looked so earnest about keeping him - Hale, he called him - that John couldn't refuse. It had been a long time since he'd seen Stiles interested in anything living.

A few years later, Stiles told John that Hale had run away, and less than two weeks later, introduced him to his boyfriend, Derek. He was a quiet kid, and there was something familiar about him that John could never seem to place, but it was obvious that they loved each other. Though sometimes, John would catch a glance between the two and would swear that just for a split second, their eyes glowed red.

...

Derek was waiting for his new supply of hydrangeas and definitely not waiting for the delivery guy, no matter what his sisters (and Erica) said. They grew a lot of their own flowers out on the Hale property, but some flowers only grew at certain times or in different climates, and despite the greenhouses they owned, sometimes flowers needed to be purchased.

 _A Hale Bunch_  was a popular business in its own right, and deservedly so, after all of the work his parents had put into the floristry shop. They even had franchise stores in three different towns within Beacon County. The Beacon Hills store was the nicest, in Derek's completely biased opinion. He looked out of the window and saw the truck approaching. Taking off his gloves, Derek wiped his hands on his apron and headed out the back, ignoring Erica's smirk.

"Shut up, I'm just taking care of a delivery," Derek muttered, glaring at her on his way out of the store.

" _Of course_  you are; don't think I haven't seen that bouquet you've been working on," she teased, smiling broadly.

Derek stopped by his workbench, grabbing a small bouquet before he lost his nerve completely. Today, he would do this. He would actually ask Stiles out on a date. Derek breathed in deeply, comforted by the smell of flowers, and opened the storeroom door and watched as the truck parked carefully.

"Hey, Derek. How are you?" Stiles called out, grinning as he waved his clipboard.

"Good, you?" Derek asked, almost waving the bouquet in response.

Stiles gave a firm nod, sliding open the back of the truck and climbing inside. "Not bad. Busy week for deliveries. Senior prom's coming up; I expect you'll be run off your feet soon enough?"

"Most likely," Derek agreed with a nod.

He held the bouquet loosely in his hand, suddenly wondering if this was a bad idea.  _Maybe Stiles was just a nice guy that flirted with all of his customers? Maybe he didn't even know he was flirting or something? What if he actually didn't like Derek at all and was just being charming so he wouldn't get his feelings hurt?_

"Are those for me?" Stiles asked, coming back out of the truck with a pallet full of flowers, and grinned brightly at Derek.

"Y-yes. I... I wanted to ask you out on a date, and I know you like these flowers best because you always comment on them when you deliver them, and..."

"No one's ever given me flowers before," Stiles admitted, setting the pallet down carefully, smiling as he took the bouquet from Derek gently. "They're beautiful."

"So're you," Derek murmured.

He felt a hot flush on his neck and ears for saying something so lame, but Stiles just smiled at him again, taking his breath away and making him feel light-headed all at once. Then Stiles pressed a firm kiss to Derek's lips, and he felt weak-kneed as well. Derek clung to Stiles' shoulders, even as they pulled away from the short kiss, and grinned at him a little dopily.

"So, where were you thinking for our first date?" Stiles asked.

"Anywhere at all," Derek said, smiling warmly.

"How about dinner at my place? I'll even cook," Stiles added, grinning.

"Okay. Should I bring something?"

"Flowers."

Derek grinned and kissed Stiles this time, arms wrapped around his waist. "I can definitely do that."

They didn't pull away until Erica catcalled from the front of the shop, Derek burying his head against Stiles' shoulder in embarrassment.

"Just wait 'til I tell your sisters!" Erica called, laughing.

"Want to help me with the rest of my deliveries?" Stiles offered.

" _Hell yes,_ " Derek breathed gratefully.

...

The end.

Thanks for reading!


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